


Ice, Baby

by sauer (Showert_ime)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Ice Play, M/M, Oops, PWP, Rimming, Smut, Summer, Summer Vacation, enjoy, have fun, i wrote that for fun ok, iceplay, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 07:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Showert_ime/pseuds/sauer
Summary: Kyungsoo hates hot days with a passion but Jongin, his fellow employee at the mini golf course, makes it a bit better.





	Ice, Baby

Kyungsoo hates summer. From places swarmed with tourists, to biter insects, to balls of ice cream left to melt on the sidewalks by howling kids, it’s as if everything’s continually trying to suck the life out of him. His patience, as it is well-known by the people who surrounds him, is incredibly limited; and each passing summer is one more testament to his will to live, whatever what some of his friends have to say on his everyday motivation to get up.

There’s one very specific thing, though, that he just can’t find in himself to even try to endure.

Hot days.

They’re the absolute worst. Not only does he have fair, sensitive skin prone to sunburns, it comes with the whole “heat-makes-me-weak-and-sick” package.

He just can’t tolerate it, especially when it rises above the thirty degrees and the humidity is up to a sticky eighty percent, just like today.

He wants to die.

Well, not quite, but he definitely doesn’t want to be here, in the little reception and storage building of the mini-golf course he’s working at.

The air conditioning’s broken in the main room that, anyway, is an open counter serving the purpose of a checkout and the lending of golf clubs. They serve a few things, too, such as overly sour slushes and air-filled bag of chips.

He technically doesn’t mind working here that much; it’s boring but it’s a small pay he needs and it’s not exactly a job where a lot of pressure’s on him. Still, heatwaves are heatwaves and he can’t even access the break room at the back of the building before it’s his turn to do so. Someone has to stay at the front most of the time, in case people show up wanting to play mini-golf in this crazy, sweltering heat.

It’s Jongin who’s at the back at this very moment, probably enjoying the fuck out of his fifteen minute, air conditioned break.

He laments; he should’ve gone first, but the younger employee had made such a pitiful face at him that he’d just been convinced to let him go.

Now, he regrets it a bit, especially as he can feel beads of sweat rolling down his nape and hairline, excruciatingly slowly at that. The sensation’s disagreeable; and his grey t-shirt’s sticking to him like a second layer of skin, darker where his perspiration gathered and soaked through.

He despises feeling this dirty, but there isn’t much he can do about it.

He cards a hand through a few dark, damp strands of hair, sighing with all of his profound despair. He’d only had a group of four come up to the front desk about thirty minutes ago, and with Jongin to assist him, it’d taken literally two minutes to be done making them pay and lending them the clubs.

Right now, they’re on the sixteenth green hole; and he heard the dad say they should play the yellow ones, hardier and trickier to get through, right after.  

If he considers the way in which the two youngest are all but focused on the game and the father’s very adamant about playing according to the rules, it should take them another 30 minutes, maybe even more, to complete the entirety of the mini-golf course holes.

He hears the door open with a grinding noise at the back and he gives it a side-glance, his hand lifting to offer a wave to Jongin. A bit more than fifteen minutes have passed by since the other employee disappeared in the break room, it was time he got back.

Before he can say anything, though, the younger yanks at the collar of his shirt, and then, something hard and extremely cool slides down between his shoulder blades, eliciting a shriek out of him. “What the fuck!”

Jongin’s absurdly cute laugh reaches his ears just as he turns completely to see him standing there, a cardboard cup filled with ice cubes in his right hand and a mischievous beam on his face. “Thought you’d appreciate the refreshment.”

His lips mold into a perfect pout and Kyungsoo winces. His tee is that sticky that he has to pull at the hem of it for the piece of frozen water to fall out of it, and albeit it leaves a cooling trail of liquid in its path down his back, the sharp contrast wasn’t all that nice.

“Don’t do this again, you.”

Jongin shrugs and puts the ice-filled glass beside the slush machine, whining. “But Soo, I’m only trying to help! It’s not my fault seeing your back tempted me to do it.”

He raises a judging eyebrow at the other. His excuse isn’t exactly helping his case. “I hope you know you just sound immature right now.”

Jongin gasps in mock offense then proceeds to pinch Kyungsoo’s forearm. He doesn’t appear truly affected. He’s always been like that: easygoing and joking around most of the time. “Immature, me? How could you say that when you know I’d do anything for you as my fellow employee? You’re my favourite at that!”

“That’s because we’re the only day employees, Jongin.”

“It still counts.” The younger argues and makes his way to the clubs, making sure they’re all sorted out in the right order and colours. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at him, focusing back on the cash register.

He’s been working with him for almost four weeks now, and he’s surprised at how easy it is to exchange with the other. He’s always been known for his awkward, clipped speech and lack of interest in social gatherings, yet Jongin, even if from the same school and close group of friends, hadn’t seemed to mind that at all.

If anything, he’s been pretty nice to Kyungsoo, always preventive and teasing without being as brash as, say, Baekhyun.

He can appreciate that about the other; this inclusion he practices without being fully aware of it. It helps a lot.  

What he can call him out for, though, is his strong taste for pranks and touchy hands.

He still isn’t quite used to it yet. Like now, Jongin steps back to his side and his hand somehow makes its way to Kyungsoo’s lower back, sliding up and down for a few seconds before withdrawing in a lingering way.

Kyungsoo shivers but doesn’t let it show, nodding to whatever Jongin says, not really listening. After a minute or two, he’s left alone again, and he just decides himself to finally go enjoy the air conditioning of the break room when yet another ice cube hits his skin.

Only this time, it’s in his pants, and apparently Jongin hasn’t bothered to look because he’s pulled Kyungsoo’s shorts and underwear with it. Kyungsoo doesn’t just shriek this time, he downright screams, trying in haste to bring the foreign object out of his clothes.

The ice is more than just freezing against his buttocks, and Jongin’s booming laugh is so damn loud that even the father a the other end of the mini golf course turns his head toward them. He can feel his face burn even though, technically, he isn’t sure there’s something to be embarrassed about.

To distract himself, he hits Jongin’s shoulder hard. “Why again, you idiot,” he says as he makes his way toward the other still holding his stomach from all the fun he’s obviously just had.

“You were not listening to me, Soo, don’t be mad.”

“It’s not like what you’re saying’s that important that you need to put ice in my pants,” he breathes out, his voice weaker as he feels a drop of fresh water slides into his crack and further; it reminds him of how blazing hot his skin is and, well, he’s hoping that Jongin didn’t get too much of a view. Kind of.

“You’re so mean, you know I could get hurt by what you say, right?” Jongin grabs both his wrists and brings him forward, making sure that all Kyungsoo can see is his puppy expression. He’s hot, too hot against Kyungsoo, but it isn’t the first time it happens and Kyungsoo convinces himself it’s exactly for this reason that it feels weirdly natural.

His heart jumps in his chest and he huffs exaggeratingly at the other, as if scared he could notice his erratic pulse. It’s nothing, he tells himself. Just passing feelings that remind him of a crush, yes, but they’re temporary and certainly not mutual.

Right.

…

Right?

It’s true that he’s been noticing not so subtle once-overs from Jongin; and often, he’s under the impression that his eyes linger on his lips or thighs or ass just a tad bit too long for it to be completely innocent.

And yet, he also likes to fool himself. In this heat, he could imagine or mold his memories to just about anything, he’s certain of it.

For that reason, he can’t trust his observations of sorts.

“You’re too dumb to get hurt,” he tries to lift his tone a bit, to sound teasing, but it only half works for there’s no real bite behind his words. Jongin’s still keeping him close although he’s lowered his grip and Kyungsoo averts his eyes just as Jongin chuckles, his voice easy. “Maybe I am, actually, but it doesn’t matter to me.”

Ah, he forgot Jongin’s amazing power; he has the ability to sound cheesy or too much by saying just about anything.

So he blows air at the other and steps back.

For the following hour, nothing happens. The little family of four’s done with the course so they leave; and a group of three Kyungsoo thinks he’s seen at college or somewhere similar arrives, not losing time to start the mini-golf course with slushes and pops served by no one else than Jongin.

The heat’s becoming more and more unbearable as they get further into the afternoon. Kyungsoo, in all honesty, didn’t think it remotely possible. Before he knows it, he’s half-hunched over the counter, his forehead pressed against its slightly cooler surface. It’s dirty enough that he’ll probably have a few pimples the next day, but it’s too late to mind already.

His break had been pure heaven, a relief to his dizziness and intense sweating, but returning to the sauna that was the main room had made everything worse all over again.  

Behind him, Jongin chortles. Kyungsoo hums wonderingly, aware that the other employee could very well be staring at his ass and he wouldn’t know, but he can’t bring himself to care at this very precise moment. Maybe he should, but, ah.

His whole body’s limp and heavy, and he just can’t wait to go back home for a cold shower and –  

“Aah,” what should’ve been a surprised, annoyed sound comes out as more of a moan than anything else as ice’s unceremoniously dropped into his boxers yet again; and because of his position, one smaller cube rolls down between his cheeks, brushing ever so lightly past his hole.  It clenches, and Kyungsoo wants to bury into the ground. Embarrassment creeps up his back, goosebumps erupting all over his arms as he straightens up.

Well, ehm, he didn’t expect that, and by the way Jongin’s looking at him with wide, glassy eyes when he turns toward him, he wasn’t prepared for it, either – it being Kyungsoo’s accidentally very sexual sounding complaint. Awkward.

Weirdly exciting, too.

His brain must’ve gone crazy due to the heat.

“I, uh,” he doesn’t know where to start, fidgeting and keeping his boxers from sticking to his butt with a clumsy hand holding the fabric back, but Jongin makes his way to him with a determined expression on his pretty face, invading his personal space by cornering him against the counter. Kyungsoo frowns; there are clients on the course who could see them and, well, what’s Jongin trying to do anyway?

“What,” he begins, the capricious leaps of his heart back full force. Jongin says nothing, staring intently at him and deep into his eyes as his pelvis pushes into Kyungsoo’s; and he knows it’s not the heat playing tricks on him when he feels something push against his thigh.

What the fuck. It shouldn’t make his member twitch, but it does.

“Kyungsoo.” It almost startles him but then Jongin leans in to steal his lips; and he tastes of blue raspberry and cherry flavoured slush, and fuck, Kyungsoo’s petrified and he just doesn’t know what to do and –

Jongin saves him the trouble of choosing by stepping back, but his palm is still there, clammy around his wrist. He looks troubled by his own suddenness, and Kyungsoo’s entire body is still feeling the thrill caused by that unexpected kiss.

Behind, far behind, the three mini golf players are still highly invested in their game, now at the twelfth hole, the one with two bumps and green carpet ripped off along the left corner of the rectangle.

Kyungsoo thinks he sees red infusing Jongin’s cheeks, but his eyes see shit and the room, although open on the outside world on one side, is poorly lit. On top of that, Jongin’s slightly darker yet gold complexion has always made things less obvious than, say, Kyungsoo’s easily reddening cheeks and ears.

Jongin inhales heavily before he breathes it all out, as if having come to a sudden realisation of the utmost importance and needing more oxygen to process it correctly.

His words are sharp into the humid air, distinctly enounced yet too crude for Kyungsoo to believe them to be true.   

“I want to eat you out.”

Kyungsoo sputters, dumbfounded. “You want to what?” He knows he sounds almost disgusted but he feels nothing like it; it’s just the surprise, the need to protect himself if ever he heard wrong.

Jongin’s face doesn’t fall, but he seems slightly deterred by Kyungsoo’s confusion. When he speaks again, he doesn’t sound as decided anymore. He sounds inexperienced, more fragile; and Kyungsoo’s reminded that he’s a whole year younger. “I – I mean, I’d like to…” He groans, hiding his face behind his hands.

Guilt makes its way to Kyungsoo chest and squeezes.

He notices how Jongin’s fingers are longer; his knuckles, carefully crafted, are yes broader than his own but still delicate in their own way. He wants his hands on him, around him.

It’s difficult to pinpoint why exactly, but he nods as an encouragement for Jongin to carry on with his sentence, trying to appear… comprehensive. Attentive. Or something close to that. The need to reassure Jongin that it’s okay is overwhelming.   

It’s difficult to balance it out, too, considering his blood’s already rushed down there and he suddenly feels very impatient. For what, exactly, that’s left unclear to his thoughts, but he knows he’d like to figure it out quickly, preferably with Jongin involved.

And he thinks Jongin wants something from him too.

He throws back a glance; the group of three’s only at the sixteenth hole of the green section, so hopefully, they’ll play the yellow one too. And they can just leave their clubs on the counter ever if no one’s there to answer to them, right?

Okay. He didn’t think it’d turn out like this, ever, but he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t dreamt of such fantasies regarding Jongin in the past few weeks.

It’s not his fault; the other’s an extremely agreeable person and just perfectly his style.

Not that he ever dared say it out loud.

In front of him, the younger’s fallen silent and he’s looking past Kyungsoo’s shoulder into the distance. It’s obvious that mortification is upon him, but he doesn’t want to witness such a thing in the other’s expression.

Maybe because he hopes there’s a chance it’ll break the tension that’s taken place in here, he grabs the now half-filled with ice cardboard cup to the side and, without hesitation, dumps it at the front of Jongin’s pants. He catches a glimpse of dark, snuggly fitting briefs; and he pulls at them too.

Granted, it was a bit of a stupid idea. Jongin cowers, a high whine leaving his lips, and Kyungsoo’s pretty sure that ice on a dick probably doesn’t feel all that good.

He swears he just wanted to get back at the other.

When Jongin lifts his eyes up to his own once more after he’s taken all of the ice out of his clothes, they’re a bit teary and oh, surprise, the tip of his ears is now a deep beet red. Satisfaction does find Kyungsoo and settles into his chest, for he feels more in control of the situation that way, but there’s also still a bit of guilt mingled with everything else.

“Kyungsoo, what the fuck?” Jongin sounds pitiful, but when Kyungsoo looks down at the wet patch at the front of his pants, there’s still a bulge. The damp spot is too large for it to be just ice; he must’ve dumped on Jongin’s crotch the water that was gathering at the pit of the cup by emptying it of its ice cubes.

The corners of his lips lift up before he can prevent it and he shakes his head, closing his eyes as he hides his mouth behind a hand. “I’m, uh, I wanted to… make things less awkward.”

It’s true; that was his main goal. Jongin’s pants sticking to his groin is all but an aftereffect he can subtle enjoy. Jongin appears exasperated, but at the same time, he doesn’t move away either. “I’d prefer your mouth on my dick than ice, to be honest.”

Oh.

It’s funny how direct he becomes when he relaxes, even just the slightest bit; Kyungsoo wants to point out that what he did just worked, but he keeps it to himself, biting the inside of his cheek as inappropriate images start popping in his head. Yeah, well, he’s in it deep, right now.

“Oh,” he exhales shakily, detecting a remnant of sour slush on the tip of his tongue, a fragment of Jongin’s kiss.

Confused desire is etched on Jongin’s face and Kyungsoo realises the younger just gave away a piece of information with which he could very well burn him.

He doesn’t want to leave it at that.

He doesn’t want to; so with a vicelike grip on his bicep, he brings him to the break room, not forgetting to leave a “Back in a few minutes” sign on the counter, just in case someone needs their help. And a bell, too.

That way, they’ll be able to hear anyone who needs something pretty easily.

He locks the door behind them and presses Jongin up against it, relief spreading through his entire being once freezing air finally starts entering his lungs. It awakens him, rouses him from his sluggishness; and it apparently does the same to Jongin too for the other’s hands suddenly make their way under his grey tee, eager and soft as soon as his back hits the timeworn wood of the door.

Kyungsoo sighs contentedly; if there’s one thing he loves from physical interaction, it’s being touched, fondled in a curious, tentative way. It makes for the nicest caresses; and it tempers the intensity of the situation by making him focus on the slightest of sensation.

Their lips join in a heavy, slick kiss; their tongues discover each other playfully, sometimes bitten, sometimes sucked in; and somehow, the plumpness of both their pair of lips doesn’t hinder the process at all.

If anything, it makes for a perfect fit; their mouths are perfectly molded to one another.

He doesn’t believe he’d be able to enjoy the heavy petting in the dense heat. He should be grateful for the existence of such a room at his work place.

It only escalates further as Jongin’s hips start thrusting forward to rub against his thigh; he’s whimpering, his dick warm and very tangible against Kyungsoo. The layers of fabric are more than just a bother, too, so with a swift hand, he brings Jongin’s pants down without a warning and invites him to do the same to his own shorts.

There’s something satisfying about rutting against each other. Sure, it can rub one dry, but it’s pleasurable. Maybe it’s because it’s more primal and needy than anything else, it feels absolutely natural to move their hips in tandem, to push forward to feel hot, hard flesh and hear the other’s breathe catch in his throat.

Because, yeah, both their underwear are now down to their knees and they’re just going at it, unrelenting in their pace as they try to keep as close as possible to the other. He can feel a bit of precome stick to his thighs and stomach and he knows it’s Jongin’s.

The arousal presses heavily into the pit of his stomach, but he needs more, something more. Jongin’s face is completely flushed by now, his lips bruised and his brown hair sticking to his temples.

Kyungsoo probably looks like a sexual mess too at the moment.

His legs are starting to feel the strain and he slows down, his hands playing forcefully with Jongin’s ass. His eyes dart down and he sees just how the younger’s erected: it looks almost painful, the tip thick and wet, and for some reason, it also totally appears delectable at the moment. Coarse hairs surround the base, preventing him from seeing everything but evoking a very particular picture in his mind, one of his nose buried in them as he sucks the other.

He could drop to his knees and just take him in his mouth straight away.

But he doesn’t because he’s stopped before he can by Jongin who pushes him away and makes his way to the fridge at the back of the room on unsteady legs, discarding his pants and underwear to the floor in doing so.

His legs are a work of art, lean and balletic, and his ass is alluring to watch too as it jiggles because hey, it’s not made of plastic but rather healthy flesh.

It randomly reminds him of how he’s been avoiding going to the gym.

It might sound like Jongin’s pure perfection in his eyes, but as a matter of fact, he isn’t. He always has a few zits along his jawline; his nose has that noticeable bump; sometimes, his hair’s greasy and Kyungsoo knows for a fact that the younger either was too lazy to shower before making his way to work or was practicing for dance auditions right before.

He has flaws, he’s but a young adult, nineteen and very much affected by all of what they’re doing at the moment.

Even so, he doesn’t mind; it changes nothing to the way Jongin’s attractive and all too likeable. If anything, it makes him more attainable and not just a pipe dream of sorts.

Jongin comes back to him and, well, Kyungsoo shouldn’t be surprised at the bad of ice cubes he’s holding in one hand, but he is a bit.

“Turn around.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow but does as he’s being told. Jongin pushes him against the door and he has to brace himself with his forearms on it, arching his back the slightest bit as he hears a small thump. He glances down above his shoulder, and Jongin’s on his knees, the bag of ice beside him, and before Kyungsoo can tell him off for what he’s about to do, a wet muscle makes its way down his cleft.

He chokes on nothing, his throat closing up as Jongin’s tongue prod at his hole gently. He doesn’t have a condom on him and he has an idea or two about stopping Jongin before he goes forward with his plan because, hey, they don’t have protection, but it all shrivels down to nothing as the warm muscle pushes past his rim and into him.

His whole body is taunt, his member weighty between his legs, and this one more sensation of Jongin eating him out is just bringing him that much closer all too suddenly.

The tongue retreats, though, and he’s left clenching and shuddering around nothing.

What happens next leaves his entire being perplexed: ice pushes along his crack until it reaches his hole and it’s so fucking cold, it’s too much.

And yet, Jongin somehow knows what he’s doing, because it makes the pressure grow inside of him instead of bringing his arousal down. It’s so frigid against his puckered skin that it burns, but then it’s on his perineum for a few seconds before it brushes against his balls, spreading a wetness that leaves a refreshing feeling as it dries.

He’s the one whimpering now, and he’s well aware of how inconsistent Jongin’s breathing is against the back of his trembling thighs. He looks back one more, and he sees, he sees that the younger one’s jerking himself off, his strokes decided and rough.

He’s so close; and then a new ice cube is pushed inside of him, and soon enough, Jongin’s tongue joins it, poking it in further. A hand finds its way to his neglected erection, and a few pumps cause him to fall apart under Jongin’s ministrations.

His forehead presses forcibly against the door and his eyelids are shut tight as he comes, all over the door. Behind him on the floor, his legs spread, Jongin finds his own orgasm, his moan the perfect depiction of finding true relief after too long a time of holding it all in.

He wants to bask in it all, to sleep right here and then, even as he can feel a bit of Jongin’s come now on the back of his legs; but a bell rings.

The fucking front desk bell rings.

They both scramble up, searching desperately for tissues to wipe themselves down. Kyungsoo doesn’t even bother with his ruined boxers; he just puts on his shorts and leaves the room.

He’s hit with a wave of incredible heat as soon as he does and, as expected, there are new arrivals at the front desk, five old people who want to play.

To be honest, it’s amazingly awkward to answer these people knowing and feeling that there’s still a freezing ice cube inside of him, melting and causing water to slide down his asscheeks.

His burning cheeks can definitely be inconspicuous in the warm weather, but still they eye him a bit weirdly. Jongin only appears toward the end of the transaction, his hands shaking as he hands them all their respective clubs.

It’s only when they’ve left that he knows why he was started at so curiously.

“You’ve got come on your shirt, Soo.”

He almost howls in humiliation; it doesn’t mean they knew what it was, but they might have had an idea or two about the white substance dotting the hem of his shirt. Jongin’s laughing heartily now, but Kyungsoo can’t exactly hold it against him.

He wants to scream what the fuck did we do in our break room but it doesn’t come out. After all, it’s not like he wouldn’t reiterate the experience.

**Author's Note:**

> uuuuuuuuuuuuh.   
> well. it was really stuck in my head at work yesterday, so... there?   
> i wrote it without any expectation/pressure yep yep. it's meant to be pwp ok. 
> 
> thank you for reading; for the comments, kudos and bookmarks and aallll <3   
> thanks V for reading it ekjwehkejrh   
> it's porn practice


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